


linger

by inkk



Series: patience [11]
Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Break Up, Confrontations, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23534377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk
Summary: “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Saul motions stiffly to his face. “You can thank your yappy little guard dog for this.” A humourless smirk curls on his lips as his gaze shifts back to Duff and he sniffs, clears his throat. “Guess now we know the bitch’s bite is just as bad as his bark, huh? Fuckin’ psycho.”(a confrontation. a breakdown. an escape.)
Relationships: Duff McKagan/Slash
Series: patience [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1214202
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	linger

**Author's Note:**

> HAHA! bet you thought we'd forgotten about this series, hadn't you??  
> apologies for the delayed update - this chapter has been in the works since literally november 5th... but then exams happened, and uni kicked my ass, and blah blah blah. totally my fault.  
> as always, thanks to my co-author @[ShadesinBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadesinBlue) for beta-ing this chapter, and to you guys for sticking around!
> 
> if you've been following this series at all, you're probably up to date on the plot, but i'll throw this in regardless: **TW for aftermath of non-con.** please proceed with caution, or do not proceed at all.

+

Duff looks out the window and wipes his nose on his sleeve again, taking in the sight of the house; brown siding, curtains pulled shut, front steps on the verge of collapse. Its windows seem to stare back at him in a silent taunt that makes his heart beat a little faster. He snaps his gaze forward, staring at the dashboard of the truck and willing his knees to stop shaking.

“You don’t have to do this,” Axl says, for the tenth time in as many minutes.

Duff nods. “I know. I just— I have to be sure.”

Axl sighs. Duff knows what he’s thinking — _what, the video wasn’t proof enough?_ — but to his credit, he lets it go.

“Okay,” he says, unenthusiastic to the very core, “Fine. But I’m stayin’ right here, you hear me? If that motherfucker tries to lay a hand on you, I swear to god he’ll be eatin’ through a straw for the rest of his life.”

Duff doesn’t have a good reply to that. He reaches for the door handle and sees Axl’s hands tighten on the wheel, hears him suck in an anxious breath. “Wait, Duff— Just... Don’t go inside, okay? Stay where I can see you. Please.”

Duff nods. He wants to muster some form of reassuring smile as the car door swings open, but finds himself entirely unable. He knows it’s unlikely Saul would try anything with Axl right there, but it’d be a lie if he said it wasn’t comforting to hear it anyways. His knees seem to shudder as his feet hit the curb, barely registering the sound of the door closing behind him.

Axl hadn’t wanted him to come back here, but Duff had insisted; he’d initially said some bullshit about closure or breaking things off, but now, standing here, all he can think about is how he needs to see Saul’s face. How some irrational part of him thinks that if he can look Saul in the eye he’ll somehow be able to make sense of how this could have happened. How someone who had laughed with him and bleached his hair and pierced his nose and kissed him softly could—

Duff unclenches his fists. He doesn’t look back at Axl before crossing the lawn and climbing the steps, feeling lightheaded and disjointed as he watches his index finger push the doorbell. If he doesn’t confront Saul now, maybe he never will.

Not even a full day has passed since the party, but it feels like a week. Last night, Saul had picked him up and handed him a joint and a bottle of something with a promise of a good time. Last night, Saul made him put on a stupid shirt he didn't want to wear and then took him right back out of it. Last night, Saul was his boyfriend. And last night, Saul was—

— _turning you into a goddamn party trick_. 

The phrase echoes through his mind, seemingly from thin air, and then it’s gone as quickly as it came. Duff tugs the collar of Axl’s jacket up again, hiding the marks he knows are there. He feels dizzy all of a sudden, breathing fast, feeling the phantom touch of a hand on his waist. He stuffs his hands into the coat pockets right as the door opens and his head snaps up, all the breath leaving his body in a whoosh.

“McKagan,” Saul greets him cordially. Duff almost flinches back at what he sees.

Saul’s nose and left cheekbone are a mess of bruising, eyes swollen and puffy beneath the unwashed mass of his hair. When his split lips curl into a smile, eyes flicking past him to where Axl’s truck is sitting at the curb, Duff thinks it might be the ugliest thing he's ever seen.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Saul motions stiffly to his face. “You can thank your yappy little guard dog for this.” A humourless smirk curls on his lips as his gaze shifts back to Duff and he sniffs, clears his throat. “Guess now we know the bitch’s bite is just as bad as his bark, huh? Fuckin’ psycho.”

Duff doesn't say anything. He can't think of anything worth saying, really. There's nothing there.

“So, he took you home last night or what?” Saul asks. There's something sly in his eyes, but it’s not the teasing look Duff is familiar with. It’s cold. Calculating.

“Yeah,” Duff finally says. His back feels as stiff as a fucking two-by-four.

Saul just looks at him for a moment. He slowly leans one shoulder up against the door jamb, visibly withholding a wince as he curls one hand around his ribs, but his tone is still casual as can be when he says, “So we’re runnin’ back to Bailey, then, are we?”

Duff feels his eyebrows fall into a frown. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Guess I should’a seen it coming,” Saul says. “Y’know, with you being so hung up on him and all. It’s always ‘Axl this, Axl that’.” He shrugs. “I mean, if you still think Bill Bailey’s hot shit, that's your problem, but don't go siccing him on me.”

As if Duff asked him to show up. As if Duff planned that any of this would happen.

And that— that's _enough_. It makes his blood boil. “I don’t seem to recall you looking out for me last night,” he bites out. The smug curl of Saul’s lips makes him feel sick to his stomach.

What he doesn't expect is for Saul to look him in the eye and say, “Oh, shut up. You can take care of yourself.”

Duff’s jaw clenches. “What?” he says tightly.

“I _said_ , you can take care of yourself,” Saul rolls his eyes. “Admit it, Duff. You got fucked up and you couldn't handle it. Not really my fault if you embarrassed yourself.”

“You—” Duff stops, hands clenching into fists. The dizzy feeling is back. “Those guys, they… You were there. You were _right there_ , and you didn't—”

Saul tilts his head. “Didn't what?”

“You were supposed to be my boyfriend,” Duff says. The words come out so bitter and angry he's shaking with it.

A new expression flickers over Saul’s face, his smug amusement replaced with something steely and unsympathetic. “Yeah, and that was a big fuckin’ mistake on my end,” he says shrewdly. “You’re nothing but a goddamn mess, McKagan. Everyone can see that. And if what you wanted last night was a babysitter, maybe you should’ve just stuck with that redhead piece of white trash shit you're still so hung up on.” He raises his voice at the end, loud enough for Axl to hear, and raises his middle finger over Duff’s shoulder.

Duff doesn't have to turn around to know that Axl is reciprocating. “Don't bring him into this,” he snaps, shoving Saul’s wrist away. “This isn't about him.”

Saul locks eyes with him again. “No,” he says flatly, “It ain't. It's about you being a stuck-up slut with baggage. I’m tired of your shit, McKagan. We’re done.”

“Mother _fucker_ ,” Duff hears himself say. His voice cracks halfway through, turning it into a hoarse yelp. “Are you fucking kidding me? After all the fucking shit you pulled?”

Saul just shrugs. Duff clenches and unclenches his fists, then stuffs them back in the pockets of Axl’s jacket. His face is hot, eyes starting to swim.

“Fuck you,” he finally says, the words coming out choked and unsteady. “Fuck you and your shitty drugs and your shitty friends and your shitty fucking car. Good luck repeating senior year.”

He turns and walks back down the steps. His cheeks are burning, tears blurring his vision as he trods over the cracked front walk and the weeds poking through.

“You think Bailey’s gonna treat you any better?” Slash calls after him.

“I hope you fucking rot,” Duff chokes out. He doesn't turn around.

When he pulls the truck door open and climbs in, Axl is looking at him like he just watched a dog get euthanized.

“Just go,” Duff cries, face contorting into a sob. “Please, just drive, I can't—”

He bends forward at the waist and buries his face in the sleeves of Axl’s jacket. His chest heaves in convulsive gasps as the truck rumbles to life and peels away from the curb with a lurch, nose running, the denim of Axl’s jacket muffling his desperate whimpers.

“You're okay,” he hears Axl mutter. “We’re leaving, alright? It's gonna be okay.”

Duff just cries harder.

If he never sees Saul again, it’ll be too soon. Duff doesn’t even want to think about him. He doesn’t want to think about how quickly everything changed, or how he could have let it get to that point, or even what’s going to happen from here on out. It’s all too much; too overwhelming. He just squeezes his eyes shut against the swell of panic and holds his head in his hands, breathing so hard his lungs hurt.

Axl doesn't stop driving until his sobs have subsided to hiccups. By the time they pull over in a gas station parking lot near the edge of town, Duff’s cheeks are sticky with drying tears, and all that he’s left with is a hollow, exhausted feeling.

“I should go home,” he finally says, his voice weak and croaky. He clears his throat before continuing. “My parents... Shit. God, they're probably going ballistic right now, I didn't even think—”

“I called your ma,” Axl says.

A jolt of fear streaks through Duff’s stomach. “What?” he says faintly, “When? What did you tell her?”

“I just said that you ‘n Slash had a big fight,” Axl shrugs, strangely subdued. “I told her you needed some space, and all that. I know she doesn’t like me, but she seemed to understand.”

“She hated Saul,” Duff says after a moment. He exhales a sigh. “She hated him from the first time she saw him, and I… Oh, god.” He feels like he's going to throw up.

He can feel Axl’s eyes on him, the concern practically radiating off of him in waves. Duff swallows and rubs his eyes. “Can we just go back to your place, please? I’m just— I’m tired.” _And sore. And sad. And afraid to be alone._

“Yeah,” Axl says after a moment, “We can do that.” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead, he just puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking lot, starting off towards home. Duff is grateful.

He doesn't say much on the ride back to his place, either; just pulls up out front and kills the engine, then jogs around the car to open the passenger door, watching with a concerned frown as Duff slowly climbs out. His legs feel stiff and clumsy, and his body hurts more than before. It’s as if every ounce of energy has been sucked from his body.

“I’m fine,” Duff dismisses Axl’s outstretched hand with a wave. “I can manage.”

They take it slow up the driveway and into the house, where Axl directs Duff back to his room, following close behind.

“You want somethin’ to eat?” he asks quietly, stopping in the doorway as Duff takes a seat on the side of the mattress. “I think we have soup, maybe. Or macaroni.”

Duff shakes his head. “No thanks, I’m… I’m just not really hungry right now. I kinda just want to sleep, if that's okay.”

Axl nods. “Sure,” he says. “Take all the time you need.” He hesitates for a second before adding, “I’ll be in the garage if you need me. Gotta do some tune-ups on the truck, I think.”

“Okay,” Duff agrees vacantly.

He and Axl just look at each other for a moment, and then Axl nods again with finality, stepping out of the room and pulling the door shut behind him. Duff listens as his footsteps recede.

He curls up on the bed with his knees tucked to his chest, not bothering to get under the covers. A few minutes later, he hears the distant sounds of Axl starting to tinker in the garage. There's a tightness in his throat like he’s going to start crying again, but instead he just lays there, gasping. The tears don't come.

**Author's Note:**

> i speak for myself and my co-author @[ShadesinBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadesinBlue) when i say we're incredibly grateful for the amount of readers who have followed along with us on this journey so far... and we hope you'll stick around just a little bit longer to see it through to the end!  
> stay safe and stay healthy, everybody ♥️ we love ya!!


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